Better than Virgil, while he was alive, what I have said* Or Dante also. <10> Now let us ride blive,* *briskly For I will holde company with thee, Till it be so that thou forsake me.” “Nay,” quoth this Sompnour, “that shall ne’er betide. I am a yeoman, that is known full wide; My trothe will I hold, as in this case; For though thou wert the devil Satanas, My trothe will I hold to thee, my brother, As I have sworn, and each of us to other, For to be true brethren in this case, And both we go *abouten our purchase.* *seeking what we Take thou thy part, what that men will thee give, may pick up* And I shall mine, thus may we bothe live. And if that any of us have more than other, Let him be true, and part it with his brother.” “I grante,” quoth the devil, “by my fay.” And with that word they rode forth their way, And right at th’ent’ring of the towne’s end, To which this Sompnour shope* him for to wend,** *shaped **go They saw a cart, that charged was with hay, Which that a carter drove forth on his way. Deep was the way, for which the carte stood: The carter smote, and cried as he were wood,* *mad “Heit Scot! heit Brok! what, spare ye for the stones? The fiend (quoth he) you fetch body and bones, As farforthly* as ever ye were foal’d, *sure So muche woe as I have with you tholed.* *endured <11> The devil have all, horses, and cart, and hay.” The Sompnour said, “Here shall we have a prey,” And near the fiend he drew, *as nought ne were,* *as if nothing Full privily, and rowned* in his ear: were the matter* “Hearken, my brother, hearken, by thy faith, *whispered Hearest thou not, how that the carter saith? Hent* it anon, for he hath giv’n it thee, *seize Both hay and cart, and eke his capels* three.” *horses <12> “Nay,” quoth the devil, “God wot, never a deal,* whit It is not his intent, trust thou me well; Ask him thyself, if thou not trowest* me, *believest Or elles stint* a while and thou shalt see.” *stop The carter thwack’d his horses on the croup, And they began to drawen and to stoop. “Heit now,” quoth he; “there, Jesus Christ you bless, And all his handiwork, both more and less! That was well twight,* mine owen liart,** boy, *pulled **grey<13> I pray God save thy body, and Saint Loy! Now is my cart out of the slough, pardie.” “Lo, brother,” quoth the fiend, “what told I thee? Here may ye see, mine owen deare brother, The churl spake one thing, but he thought another. Let us go forth abouten our voyage; Here win I nothing upon this carriage.”